A Windfall as a Side Business - 2
"So, should I consider this transaction a joint business venture with Mr. Moon?"
At my question, Moon Sung-il answered readily.
"Of course. If you hadn't stepped in, CEO Kim, I might have lost not only the deal but my very life."
"Good."
Lady Wolyeong had said the swords of Shoichi could be returned to his descendants.
Here's the important thing.
She said I *could* return them. She never said to sell them.
Of course, she never said I couldn't sell them for money either.
But still.
It might be one thing if Shoichi had killed Joseon people and become a hero among the samurai.
Shoichi used that sword to behead Japanese pirates.
Even though the pirates bled the same Japanese blood as he did, Shoichi punished them without mercy.
That's what he believed was right, I supposed.
And the brief time Shoichi lived happily with Lady Wolyeong under the Joseon name Sin I-ho was just that — brief.
Branded a spy, he was executed at the north gate of Ganghwa Mountain Fortress and buried somewhere nearby.
Because of a false petition filed by that traitor Jo Bang-su, granted.
Selling Shoichi's swords as a Joseon descendant honestly weighed on my conscience.
So here was the conclusion I'd reached.
"Please tell the Moritake family where Shoichi's remains are buried. We need to recover his remains. Even if his soul has already departed for the afterlife, I doubt he'd want his bones left in the ground where he was executed."
"If they learn their ancestor's remains have been left unattended, they'll send someone to retrieve them and bring them home."
"No."
I shook my head and continued.
"Shoichi became a Joseon man. He would have wanted to stay in Joseon rather than return to his homeland."
Since Lady Wolyeong's mummy was here, I doubted he'd want only his own remains sent back to Japan either.
The ideal solution would be to bury them together with Lady Wolyeong.
But her body had been donated.
Given our country's soil composition, mummies are exceedingly rare discoveries, so getting Lady Wolyeong's remains returned to us was out of the question.
"Lady Wolyeong's mummy will be preserved in the basement of the National Museum of Korea, I take it?"
"That's what they say will happen once the examination is complete. The mummy of the five-year-old Joseon boy is apparently stored there as well."
There was certainly no columbarium near the National Museum of Korea where the remains could be enshrined.
What to do?
Suddenly, I remembered what Lady Wolyeong had said — how she would show him the sights of Hanyang when the cherry blossoms bloomed.
"Let's enshrine Shoichi's remains at a temple overlooking all of downtown Seoul. I think he'd like that."
"That's a wonderful idea. If we entrust the remains to a temple, the monks will pray for his passage to paradise. I'll look into it."
Lee Ho-young stepped up eagerly.
He said he'd find a temple willing to accept the remains, and then discuss it with the Moritake family.
I felt considerably lighter as I spoke.
"That settles the arrangements for the remains. As for the swords, please return both of them to the Moritake family."
"Re-return them? You mean give them away without taking a single won?"
Moon Sung-il, who had been listening quietly all this time, spoke up carefully.
"Isn't that charity rather than business?"
Moon Sung-il was a businessman. He didn't waste time or energy on ventures that didn't turn a profit.
"CEO Kim, reconsider, please. With artifacts and antiques, you can't run a business on sentiment alone. The original owners are long dead, and their descendants will sue over the smallest sums."
"I agree with Mr. Moon. It breaks my heart what happened to Lady Wolyeong and Shoichi Moritake, but we're not philanthropists. We're businessmen."
Even Lee Ho-young joined in to persuade me.
"Attach the right conditions, and it becomes a business."
I said with a smile.
"One that should leave us with a rather substantial profit, at that."
"Wh-what do you mean?"
"Out with it, please. What are you thinking?"
Moon Sung-il and Lee Ho-young stared at me with tense expressions, urging me on.
They seemed unable to fathom how returning Shoichi's swords to the Moritake family for free could possibly become a profitable business.
I spoke at an unhurried pace.
"I hear that after Shoichi settled in Joseon, he sent letters to his younger brother back in Japan. Is that right?"
"Yes, that's correct. He sent several letters, and thanks to them, the Moritake family knew about Shoichi's swords."
"Which means those letters are still safely stored away in the family's vault, I'd imagine?"
"That's right."
The Moritake family had started out as brewers and sellers of alcohol, and had since grown into a conglomerate-level traditional liquor company.
Not just in Japan — people all over the world sought out the Moritake family's spirits.
And not just liquor. Ceramics, distribution, even sakura mochi, a regional specialty.
Carrying on the family business, the Moritakes were raking in fortunes.
"So here's my point."
Just how valuable were the letters Shoichi had sent to his brother?
To the Moritake family, they're merely the records of a family head. But in our country, their value would be beyond imagination.
Why a defected Japanese soldier turned his back on Japan and chose Joseon. How he actually lived once he did.
Everyday Joseon life as seen through the eyes of a Japanese man of that era.
They could become outstanding historical documents, offering insight into the politics and society of the period.
"Our country has now joined the ranks of developed nations. Historical reevaluation is in full swing, and serious effort is going into artifact preservation. If only because of the immense global interest in K-culture."
The Louvre, the British Museum, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York — the three great museums of the world.
And among them, the National Museum of Korea was hot on the heels of the undisputed number one, the Louvre in Paris, in visitor numbers.
They say it will break into the world's top five within the year, and riding that momentum, attract even more tourists.
I'd read an article about it not long ago — how their goal was to spread awareness of Korean history and culture worldwide.
"A letter written by a defected Japanese soldier to his brother holds historical value, but it will also do a great deal to bolster our national pride. And it's proof that Shoichi was no false defector."
Proving Shoichi's innocence and restoring his honor.
For that, we needed those letters.
"Trade the swords for the letters. That leaves us ahead of the game."
"Now that I hear it, Sunbae-nim, you're absolutely right. If the Moritakes hand over the letters, it'll benefit us far more than Shoichi's swords would."
Word had it that the Cultural Heritage Administration wouldn't even accept Shoichi's swords.
Their excuse was that there was no place to exhibit Japanese swords.
That's just an excuse. Not a single Japanese sword has been recovered from the Imjin War and put on display? Impossible.
It was because there was no profit in exhibiting them.
That's why the Cultural Heritage Administration had taken Lady Wolyeong's mummy and all her burial goods, leaving the swords behind.
And that was how the Japanese dagger had ended up in Moon Sung-il's hands.
"The Cultural Heritage Administration might balk at exhibiting Shoichi's swords, but the letters will be different. They're records left by a defected soldier — their historical value will be enormous."
"And there will be plenty of others besides the Cultural Heritage Administration willing to pay a steep price, wouldn't you say?"
After all, it was a document that could establish Korean pride and standing.
"We might even sell them for more than the swords would fetch."
When Lee Ho-young finished, I squared my shoulders and looked at Moon Sung-il.
"And after all this, do you still believe I'm planning to make a donation rather than do business?"
"No — no, of course not. I simply failed to think it through."
Moon Sung-il bowed his head to me, admitting he hadn't considered the matter deeply enough.
"I'll handle the remaining arrangements myself. From recovering Shoichi's remains to exchanging the swords for the letters, I'll see everything through cleanly and then contact you."
"Sounds good."
Though was this really doing business *together*?
All I'd done was rack my brain and pick up the money.
Still — they were giving me half the profits...
Isn't this like sitting on my hands while a rare meteor falls from the sky, and then watching the whole thing convert into cash deposited straight into my bank account?
Home at last!
It had only been three days since I'd returned to Ugok 1-ri, yet it felt like I'd been away for half a year.
That's how glad I was to be back.
"Let me off here. My whole body's stiff from not playing a single round of Go-Stop."
The moment Grandma Mak-sun spotted the village community hall, she started fussing, demanding to be let out right in front of it.
"All right. But only two hours of playing, okay? I'll come pick you up."
Han Mija held up two fingers as a pledge, and Grandma Mak-sun let out a deep sigh.
"Only two hours? Seongeun's mom, just one more hour. Hmm? Hmm?"
"Fine. I'll come get you in two and a half hours. I'll give a little, and you give a little."
"Okay, good."
Only then did Grandma Mak-sun hook her pinky finger with Han Mija's.
"Pinky promise."
"Yes."
I parked the car and held out a ten-thousand-won bill to the old woman.
"Lose all of this. And don't come back with winnings, you hear?"
"You think I play Go-Stop to lose money? I play to win it! That's honest hard work, that is!"
Grandma Mak-sun snatched the bill and disappeared straight into the community hall.
Good grief... How can one woman have so much nerve, fleing other elders of their pocket change for dear life.
Grandma Mak-sun's daily allowance was fifty thousand won — money I simply told her to spend anywhere she liked.
I bought her clothes and shoes separately, and Han Mija took care of her meals.
So I'd told her she could bury the daily fifty thousand in the ground or throw it away for all I cared.
It was the only way I figured she'd actually spend it.
But it looked like she'd been quietly stashing it away. And then earning more through Go-Stop.
And I'm pretty sure I saw her dealing from the bottom of the deck to rake in five thousand won or more a hand.
I'd clearly have to sneak over to the community hall later and slip the other elders some money myself.
Otherwise, who would keep playing with Grandma Mak-sun?
I got the car moving again and pulled up in front of Han Mija's house.
"Thank you for your hard work. Emptying your whole home to accompany Grandma on her medical checkup — I can't thank you enough."
I stepped out of the car and handed Han Mija an envelope.
"I've put in two million won for your trouble."
"I'm sorry — two million won?"
"It was a business trip, wasn't it? You were at her side twenty-four hours a day."
"That's far too much. I didn't do a single hard thing."
Han Mija waved her hands, insisting she couldn't accept such a large sum, but I just smiled and slipped the envelope into the front pocket of her bag.
"Seonghyun's starting training — he needs to be fed properly. And Seongeun's going back to school next spring, isn't she?"
"B-but... her father earns, and next year I'll be digging for mugwort myself to make and sell rice cakes..."
"Then next spring I'll recalculate your compensation. Once the weather warms up, I may need you to look after Grandma on a trip."
Grandma Mak-sun had never once seen the sea in her entire life.
When I heard that while we were roasting peanuts together, it broke my heart.
Once spring came and the weather warmed, I'd have to take her to the seaside — with Bang Seonghyun and Bang Seongeun in tow as well.
Just imagining it is already exciting.
Just then, having apparently heard the car, Bang Seongeun came running out of the house.
"Mom!"
"Oh, Seongeun-ah. Did you behave while I was gone?"
"Yep. Oppa made me omurice. And the chicken the man upstairs gave us lays two eggs every single day."
Chattering away, Bang Seongeun turned to me and greeted me with a bright smile.
"Hello, Mister! Where in Seoul did you go? Take me with you sometime!"
"I will."
This trip had been for Grandma Mak-sun's hospital checkup, and with no telling how the results might turn out, I hadn't been able to bring Seongeun along.
She'd begged and begged to come, and I'd had to peel her off and leave her behind.
It had weighed on me the whole time, so I'd brought her a present.
"Seongeun-ah, this is for you. I hear you complained your mouth was about to fall off because only your oppa got a new phone?"
"Huh? Who said that? Oh! Wait, this one *folds*? Wow, I wanted one of these SO bad!"
Watching her jump for joy, I found myself feeling delighted too.
"Well, I'll be off then."
"Mom, look at this! I have the newest phone now? It folds!"
"Did you thank the mister?"
"Oh no, wait—"
Bang Seongeun ran up to me as I was getting into the car and shouted at the top of her lungs.
"Mister! Thank you! Thank you so, so much! This is super embarrassing for me, but here goes!"
She drew a heart above her head with her hands.
"Hahaha. Get inside already. You're embarrassing me just watching."
So now, am I finally going home?
I parked in my own yard and carried the mountain of things I'd bought through the gate.
And then, suddenly—
Why does something feel so empty?